Tomorrow (Snund)
by Dawnasaurr
Summary: OneShot. Shameless Smut. Bottom!Snake. When a toxic relationship develops whose fault is it really? Sometimes love just isn't enough to keep the pieces flowing, and when it's not just about you but the things you can't run away from, what really is possible? What does tomorrow bring for those of us who don't have a choice, when love is the reason to go on but at the cost of happine


**Warnings: Pretty Explicit (PWP) **

**A/N: No editing done, _sorry_ for any mistakes, just thought of this little scenario last night and had a mighty need to type it up. Enjoy.**

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Have you ever been in a toxic relationship?

One where every song you've ever heard suddenly makes sense with a sickening reality. There's the good; the love like nothing else you've ever experienced, they leave you breathless, heart turning to goo with just one kiss, one look, one brush of their fingers against your skin. The bad so toxic it leaves you spiraling and in physical pain, at times you find yourself doubled over trying to hold the pieces together, but there's nothing you can do, so the tears just flow like they'll never end. The sex—God the sex; like every hot passionate song that leaves you only wanting more, your body writhing with the memories. Because let me tell you, Heaven _is_ a place on earth, and I've always found I enjoyed it most coming under him.

Sex is what we're good at, it's uncomplicated, or at least it is on the surface. Our bodies tell the real story though, the hint of aggression in every loving word, the pressure of our fingers as we dig into the others skin. Our mouths battle one another for a possession we'll never have, a hunger never fully sated.

We've learned over the years, and each of us brings a change of clothes whenever we can meet. They've never lasted an hour, the need is too strong and we rip and tear and shred any last bit of fabric that dare get between us like so many other things. Our bodies collide with the heat of our arousal, nipping biting and pulling at whatever we can reach, whatever feels good, whatever we can lose ourselves in.

**—-X—-**

His mouth consumes me as his hands trail along my over sensitized skin, my hands already tangled in his dark hair pulling him down for more with each bob of his head. I don't last long, the first time never does, and before I know it I can feel the familiar waves of my orgasm wash over me as I come down his throat.

I'm on my knees before him in seconds. We don't waste time with trivialities the first time and I soon have him pulling my hair groaning my name as I take as much of him in my mouth as I can. The swirling, sucking, and licking have been mastered and he gets off on the fact that he's trained me so well, that I only know what he tastes like, and I savor every second of it as I swallow around him.

The air in the small room is heavy, we've been here a hundred times or more and I set a mental reminder to tell Cry thanks for being such a good friend to us all these years. His mouth on my neck drags my thoughts away from anything other than him, his hands on my waist as he picks me up and throws me on the bed like it's nothing. I grin, provoking him further and his body is over mine before I can even get out the taunt that was building up in my throat.

"I love you," he says, as he presses our foreheads together, his bright green eyes brimming with the truth of the statement. I kiss him and it's slow, our tongues rolling languidly as they tangle together, my hand gripping hard at the base of his neck. "I love you too," I whisper breathlessly in his ear, and I swear only with him have those words ever been true.

He trails kisses down my chest, my hands gripping the blankets, a soft moan leaving my lips as his teeth latch on to a nipple. The flat of his tongue runs over my stomach and up to my neck, his hands constantly touching and I want more. God I want more, but I wait knowing I'd regret it if it was any other way.

The whole body tease goes on and on, finally I let my hand drift off the side of the bed to the nightstand. I thrust the half-used bottle at him, as much of a pleading look I can muster on my face, "Please." I'd beg, but at this point he'd just take it as a challenge. I need him though, I need this, we both do.

His mouth nips at my lower lip and I groan. "No," he says laying the bottle next to him, and it devastates me. I'm about to plead with him regardless of the consequences when he flashes his teeth in one of his rare smiles. His arms go around me and suddenly I go weightless in his arms as he lifts me and lies back on the bed setting me on top of him. He can tell I'm confused and stares into my eyes as grabbing my hand and sliding the bottle back into my palm and closing my fingers over it.

"It's been too long," he says. "I was beginning to forget what you felt like."

The smile on my face can't be contained as my mouth dives for his. I let the lust and arousal consume me, bleed into the kiss, and as I grind my hips down I can feel how hard he is under me.

When I pull away this time it's to latch onto his neck, the stubble rough and sharp on my tongue. I'm careful not to leave any marks, but I can't help myself, the taste of him is euphoric. My hands slide down his well muscled torso, fingers dipping into all the defined lines and I grit my teeth trying to block out the thought of whose hands got to touch him last.

I back up a little getting off of him, letting my hands travel down his legs before lifting and spreading them. His member is hard and leaking precome against his stomach; I lean forward and lick a strip from base to tip. The moan I'm rewarded with should be illegal and I can feel my body respond to him, my cock twitching in anticipation.

I open the bottle of lube and smear the contents on my fingers; I'm more than excited to be in this position. Not so much because he's letting me, but more so that he liked it enough last time to want it again, that I made him feel good enough to _ask_ for it.

I bite, nip, and lick at his chest when I slide the first finger in, the sharp intake of breath and his hands in my hair telling me all I need to know. I want him to beg, I want him to want me, need me so bad that he pleads for my dick to be inside of him. As I insert the second finger the first soft moan escapes him and I swallow it in a kiss. I can feel his fingers digging into my skin as his hips start to buck towards the friction going on inside of him, his body pleading for more even if he wouldn't.

When I add the third finger the breathless sound of my name is music to my ears, and the teeth that sink into my shoulder a moment later are heaven. The feel of him around my slender fingers is a torturous kind of hell. I want to give in, I want to feel him around me, I want to see his face as I thrust into him over and over again, but I wait.

I can tell he's getting impatient with me, giving me all the body cues that he wants me to get on with the show, but I pretend I don't see them. I don't know how much longer I can hold out for but without much left to lose I angle my fingers up and hit that sweet bundle of nerves. I watch as he throws his head back, hands grasping for some purchase in the covers on the bed, back arching, and the loudest moan yet echoing throughout the room. I know I've got him.

The angry yank of my hair in his strong grip has my body shooting forward towards him, my head pulled back jutting my throat out. I can feel his breath on my neck his eyes piercing me with a mix of lust and hatred, and then his teeth are on my ear and it's my turn to moan.

"Scott," he says and I shudder closing my eyes, that deep baritone doing things to me a voice never should, "Fuck me."

My eyes snap open and stare into his dilated gaze, but it's the love I see there that makes me pause, making my breath catch in my throat. His mouth is hanging slightly open, his breathing labored, and as I twitch my fingers one last time I feel him tighten around them. Eyes snap shut, fingers pulling ever harder at my hair, the shaky intake of breath, but it's the soft, "please," that I hear escape him that has me moving.

He growls as I slip my fingers from his entrance, the lube squeezing into my hand a moment later. I'm almost trembling in anticipation and I hiss almost painfully as my hand wraps around my dick, the feeling of any kind of friction driving me insane after all this arousal and deprivation. I'm on my knees in front of him, our eyes locking as I position myself, so ready and not nearly ready enough. He's beautiful, and sexy, and handsome all at once, and in this moment he's mine, and with that thought I feel him slip around me as I enter him.

"Fuck." Every time it's like this, so hot and tight, and his face, good lord the control it takes not to come right away is astounding. I still, waiting for him to adjust, and with the sound of my name as the cue I'm thrusting into him. This is my heaven; this has to be it, because nothing could feel as perfect. My fingers are digging into his flesh, his body jolting with every flex of my hips, and the sounds he's making are only spurring me on harder, faster.

I temporarily pause my movements to reach behind me dragging two pillows from the top of the bed and sliding them under his hips. The look he gives me is all hunger and challenge and I take the bait. Grabbing his thighs I pull him flush against me so every inch is buried deep within him. I can already feel the effect this angle is having on me and grin knowing the show I'll see next will be an image committed to memory.

With a hard thrust of my hips we gasp, again and again I pound into him our panting ragged and hoarse. We chime one another's name in a symphony of pleasure, both hitting the brink hard and fast, the hot burning pleasure rising higher and higher until it all becomes too much.

"Snake," I say through gritted teeth, his name like a prayer on my lips, my hips jerking erratically as I pour myself into him.

"Scott," he answers, dragging my name out in a moan of pleasure. My hand goes to his practically untouched member and I thrust and jerk him through my orgasm. The sounds he makes as he's coming is by far the sexiest thing I've ever heard, and in that moment he's an open book, the pleasure he's feeling—that **_I_** made him feel—is etched plainly on his face. I'm only worried that I'll never be happier.

Once I can feel my legs and figure out where I stop and he begins I slowly maneuver my body off of him and into his arms. He clutches me close and the smell his cologne and sweat surround me. It doesn't sound like it would smell good, but for fucks sake it just makes me want to snuggle closer, and that is exactly what I do. His arms tighten momentarily and eventually both of us somehow manage to calm our breathing to a normal level.

"I can't feel my legs," he says turning his warm green eye towards me.

I chuckle at the seriousness of his voice, "I'll take that as a job well done."

"You should because, fucking hell Scott, just," his hands come up from behind me to make a somewhat accurate exploding gesture.

That smile is on his face again and I enjoy the compliment to the fullest extent. "So does that mean this kind of thing might be a more common occurrence?"

I watch as the smile on his face suddenly fades and a saddened expression takes its place. He sighs. "You know we can't keep doing this, we've talked about this."

The anger is quick as a whip, ruining nearly every good feeling that we shared of the last couple hours. I can't fucking stand when he does this shit, it's total bull. I back the fuck off the bed and stand up starting to get dressed, pulling a leg through a clean pair of jeans. "Fuck you, just go fuck yourself Snake. We say this every single time, every single one. But here we are, having just fucked and already bringing up shit that shouldn't even be an issue at this point."

"What do you want me to say," he asks turning his back to me to slip off the other side of the bed. "We're fucking married Scott, we have kids, our wives—our families don't deserve this."

Oh _this_ fight again, my fucking favorite, what a pretentious asshole. He's not the only one with guilt, but try telling him that. "What about what we deserve huh? Do we not deserve a few hours of happiness every few months? Or am I the only one that dies a little inside every day until I see you again, am I the only one tired of fighting to be together just because we made a bad choice years ago before we even knew this," I said pointing between us, "was possible."

Snake punched the dresser where he put his clothes rattling the handles. "Don't for a second think that I don't love you. I want what you want Scott, if it wasn't for our kids…" he sighs," it would be different. We both know that if we did this we'd never see our kids again, at least not while they still live at home."

He was right. I loved my kids, I did, but sometimes this shit was so hard. I watch as I feel my legs buckle beneath me and I fall to my knees, hands pulling at my hair. I hate this so much. The tears fall unbidden and I just feel so god damned numb.

I feel the warmth of his hands come around me and pull be into his lap. He wipes my tears away with his fingers and brings his lips to mine. It's a chaste kiss, but it means so much. I wrap my hands around him and just hold on like he'll disappear. He could I remind myself, at the worst, one day he could just not show up, that one day I won't be enough anymore. My hands grip and dig into the skin of his back as I let all my fears build up and consume me. Why couldn't this be easier? Why did this have to even happen?

"Hey, shhhh, it'll be okay," he say's rubbing my back. "I'm not leaving you, I never could. I'm sorry for what I said, it just, I don't know anymore. I-I wish I could make this better, I wish so many things babe—"

And that's when I hear it. His voice cracks and I pull up from his back in an instant to look at his face. No, he couldn't be crying, no. He's never, he's never done that. It's Snake, and he's supposed to be the strong one, he's the glue, and if the glue breaks, where does that leave us?

His face is buried in my collar bone but I can feel the tears fall down my still shirtless chest. I lift his face to meet mine and while resistant at first he gives in soon enough. A part of me breaks as I look into his face, tears I thought I'd never see fall freely down his face, over me. I had no idea I actually meant that much to him, that he was as scared and angry as I was. God could we be any more stereotypical at the moment, just two closet homosexuals, emotional and crying holding on to one another. I chuckle at the thought.

"We're such a mess aren't we," I say forcing a smile. "I love you."

He pushes his forehead against mine, "and I love you."

I take a ragged breath trying to calm my nerves, we don't have much longer. Time always stealing our moments away, "tomorrow's gonna suck." It's always worse the day after, going back home, pretending everything's fine, acting the part of dutiful and loving husband. I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. It gets harder every time, and harder to come up with reasons why I don't want to be intimate any more. At least if she files for divorce I'll get to keep seeing the kids, unlikely though, I don't have that much luck.

He brushes a thumb across my cheek and I smile up at him. "Tomorrow is just one day closer until we can see each other again. One day closer until all of this is over. We can do this."

I nod my head unable to form words. He's not usually like this and the day has taken a toll on both of us. He starts to get up but I pull him back down holding onto him just a bit tighter.

"Scott."

"Stay," I say. "Just a bit longer, I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

He doesn't argue and I'm thankful. I settle back into his lap and he holds me, our arms wrapped around each other, and we hold on until the tomorrow we can be together again doesn't seem so far off.


End file.
